


Family Ties

by PJO_Connoisseur



Category: Marvel Cinematic Universe, Spider-Man (Tom Holland Movies), Spider-Man - All Media Types
Genre: Angst, F/M, First Kiss, Fluff, Fluff and Angst, Friends to Lovers, Grief/Mourning, Hurt/Comfort, Team as Family
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-05-18
Updated: 2020-05-18
Packaged: 2021-03-02 23:55:15
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 20,791
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/24245368
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/PJO_Connoisseur/pseuds/PJO_Connoisseur
Summary: Between death and abandonment, Wren has enough grief to last a lifetime and no family to speak of. When the Avengers discover her powers and rescue her from couch surfing, they offer her a chance to not only rebuild what she's lost but create a better version this time. But she's not sure if she's ready to let people in and start to care again, be it for the larger-than-life heroes or a certain nerd who can't seem to help breaking down her defenses.
Relationships: Peter Parker/Original Female Character(s)
Comments: 4
Kudos: 19





	Family Ties

**Author's Note:**

> I did research and tried to be canon-compliant, but it's probably not perfect and a bit I just made up, so there you go.

When Wren arrived at Avengers’ tower after school, Steve, Natasha, and Bruce were setting up the Game of Life on the coffee table in the living room.

Bruce noticed her first and brightened. “Wren! You’re just in time if you want to get in on this.” He gestured to the game board. 

All three of them looked at her with hope in their eyes, but Wren’s smile was strained when she said. “I don’t think so, guys. Thanks, though.” She ducked her head as she scurried to the training room, avoiding the expression she knew they’d have: disappointment from Bruce, sympathy from Natasha, and dissatisfaction from Steve. After all, she’d been turning down their offers for weeks. She felt guilty, but she’d probably feel even worse engaging with them like she was their equal when she wasn’t. 

The training room was a dull grey cube, free from distractions. While most of the other Avengers would normally come here armed only with their respective powers, Wren had lugged in a ten gallon bucket of water. She was capable of pulling the water from the air itself, but it took massive amounts of energy to get more than a gallon max. Her eyes concentrated on the water as she retreated back toward the door, blindly groping behind her until her fingers met a button beside the door. Within seconds, training had begun.

A holographic man appeared out of nowhere and began running toward Wren. She ran toward the water, one hand outstretched, and a solid stream of it rose feet into the air. When she flung her arm toward the man, the water followed. As it went through him, he disappeared, and a battle cry rang out behind her. Wren used the momentum she already had going to spin in a circle, the water looping around to hit the next target. Two more people popped up and she added her other hand. Without the time to raise more water, she brought her hands together and pulled them apart again in one smooth motion, splitting the stream of water she already had going into two, one toward an enemy on either side of her. Although connecting with the water was enough to erase the hologram and summon a new one, she knew in actual combat those shots would have been too small to stop either person. She’d have to be faster and summon a second stream.

She was not finished with her self-critique when a woman fell from the ceiling. Using the fall time as leverage, she took the opportunity to raise the full amount of water from the bucket using both hands, swallowing the woman before she hit the ground. By the time she heard the footsteps of the hologram behind her, she barely had time to glide into a somersault to give herself enough time to send the water back at him as she clumsily ended up on the ground. This screw up broke her concentration as the next round came, now three people. Her vantage point made the water harder to control, and although she tried to treat the water as a boomerang and get all three in one go, she only managed two. Wren struggled to bring it back in time to use like a shield and push the third person back. The door creaked behind her as she got to her feet, and before she could stop herself, on reflex she brought the water around to blast Tony in the face as he entered.

Tony grimaced, now soaked. Wren smiled apologetically as she brought the water that wasn’t saturating his clothes back into the bucket.

“Sorry, Tony.” Despite having been recruited to the Avengers a couple months ago, his name still tasted sour in her mouth. It felt so informal to use merely the first name of a genius she’d been watching with awe on TV not too long ago. It still felt like only days since she’d met the famed superhero group, although she had to admit this feeling was the most reasonable with Tony. They talked the least and she had trouble reading him. He seemed outwardly happy to be around only Pepper and Peter most of the time, and with Peter the vibe came across as tough love.

“Apology not accepted,” he said, and she was only mostly sure he was kidding. “Come on kid, I want to talk to you.” And just like that, he was out the door. Wren glanced back and forth between Tony and the bucket, not wanting to lose him nor leave her mess. Tony poked his head back in. “Now, please. You can get the bucket later.” She reluctantly scurried after him. Was he about to tell her he’d given up on her ever being suitable for combat of any kind? That she was too slow at learning her powers to ever be useful to them? Her stomach twisted. 

Wren’s thoughts distracted her, and when she came to attention, she found them in the kitchen. Peter was on the other side of the island, his back to them, bobbing his head to imaginary music, half a peanut butter sandwich sticking out of his mouth as he returned the bread to the counter. When he turned around and spotted them, he jolted in place, taking the sandwich from his mouth and ceasing the concert in his head. Wren chuckled to herself at the carefree display so characteristic of him. Peter noticed, his eyes going wide for half a second before he put his attention on Tony. 

“Sorry, I”ll get out of — ” Peter said before Tony cut him off.

“No, I need you too. You two” — he wagged his finger between the two teenagers — “sit.” Peter obediently seated himself at the stool in front of him, munching his sandwich. Wren joined him, playing with the end of her shirt and risking a glance at Peter. There was a smudge of peanut butter on the corner of his mouth. 

Tony placed his hands against the island and they both looked at him. “The team has decided that Wren is ready for her first mission. Sort of.” He drummed his fingers before pushing himself back and standing straight. “You’ve trained enough that we trust you not to die, but we’re not about to send you into anything high risk. Instead, we’re going to get you accustomed to being out in the field in real situations by sending you out with Friendly Neighborhood Spider-Man.”

Wren looked to Peter while Peter gaped at Tony, his food forgotten. “Are you sure? I don’t know if I — ” He cut himself off at glanced at her. “What if something goes wrong?”

“That’s why she’s going with you. Nothing ever goes wrong.” He clapped his hands together and nodded, mostly to himself. Before he could leave, he paused in the doorway. “When you go out this weekend, take her with you. Show her the ropes. You’ll do great. Okay? Okay.” He left them. 

Wren stared at her hands. Out of the corner of her eye she saw Peter glancing at her, opening and closing his mouth, unsure of himself.    
“I could refuse to go if you want,” she said, unable to keep the disappointment at the prospect out of her voice. “Tell him I’d feel safer with someone else or something.”

“I-It’s not that I don’t want to take you,” he said with painful sincerity. “I just...I don’t want anything to happen. I’m worried is all.”

Wren shrugged. “If Tony has faith in you, I do too.”

That response sparked a small smile on his face. “Okay. I guess I’m taking you out then.” The smile wavered for a second. “For training, I mean.”

She laughed. “Yeah, I got that. Kind of self-explanatory.”

He looked away, then got up. “Well, I’m gonna go...do...I’m just gonna go.”

“Peter?” she said, stopping him.

“Yeah?”

“You have peanut butter on your face.” She smiled and tapped the corner of her mouth. His eyebrows raised and he wiped it away, offering another smile before he left the room. 

Wren stayed rooted to the spot after the others had gone, her gut twisting more than when she believed she was about to be kicked out. It was true that she’d done extensive training: fighting the holograms, working with the other Avengers, learning the best course of action in various scenarios. However, out of nowhere all that work seemed to be slipping from her body. What if she forgot everything in the moment? What if fear paralyzed her and she couldn’t protect herself? If things got serious, she didn’t want Peter getting hurt trying to protect her. 

Wren looked at the door Peter had left through and her hands curled into light fists against the island. She related to Peter the most out of the Avengers by far, and it wasn’t just because of the similar ages. The others were all significantly more experienced than them, and while they didn’t win every fight, it was evident they had honed their abilities. Peter was the only one of them who gave the air of someone who was still learning. Then again, maybe it was just his personality to strive for better and that was why his confidence was never at the level of the others. Regardless, she considered him her closest ally despite his relative weakness to the others.

Maybe because of his comparative inexperience, maybe because of the closeness in age, Peter was the easiest to talk to and bond with of the Avengers. It was funny. Back before she was discovered and recruited by Natasha, Wren knew Peter Parker as a random guy who went to her school. They’d had one or two classes together, but otherwise he was just a cute guy she passed in the hall sometimes. He’d barely been on her radar, so when she’d found out he was Spider-Man, it was an odd piece of information to cope with. Despite their lack of history, he’d immediately made himself a friend to her. A week after she arrived he’d left a gift basket in her room to welcome her with a few candies and movies she’d mentioned liking and a card with a cartoon animal on it. She should have known right then and there that his kind and thoughtful nature was going to hollow him a place in her heart whether she liked it or not.

Wren nearly leapt from her skin when Peter reentered a while later, as if he could sense her thinking about him. 

“What are you still doing here?” she asked with forced casualness. “It’s not like you live here.” The corners of his mouth subtly turned down and she internally cringed at her accidental hostility. “Sorry, I didn’t mean to sound like I was complaining. I’m glad you’re here. But the question stands.”

Peter’s smile returned, a light in his eyes. “One of my Aunt May’s friends are getting married. She left this morning and I’m staying here until she gets back Saturday night.” He brought a carton of orange juice out of the fridge. “And, I mean, I do have a room here, so I think that counts as sort of living here.”

“It’s not the same,” she blurted before she could stop herself. She looked away from him, flushed. She didn’t finish the thought: that it’s not the same when you have somewhere else to go. Wren had been rotating between friends’ couches before the Avengers found her and took her in. Part of her resented the fact that if it wasn’t for her powers, she’d still be without a stable home. She had to be special in order to be looked after. It wasn’t like she was mad at the Avengers for that; they weren’t a homeless shelter who could go around rescuing the homeless youth. It still bothered her though, even if she had no one to blame.

“I know,” he said, replacing the juice and sitting beside her with his glass. She hadn’t had to finish her thought. He knew. He took a sip and stared straight ahead in silence, and Wren could see the gears turning in his head. “May would have taken you in, you know,” he said finally. “If we’d known each other and she knew what was going on with you.”

“She must be where you get it from,” she said.

Peter set down his glass and looked at her. “Get what from?”

Wren smiled and gestured to him. “Just...who you are, I guess. So cheery all the time. So...good-natured.”

Peter laughed, but he didn’t quite meet her eyes. “I’m not that cheery. I’m definitely not that good of a person.”

“Right.” She tucked back a strand of hair.

“I’m not,” he said with earnesty that wasn’t uncharacteristic but still surprising given the circumstances. 

“Yes, you are. Case in point: after my first week here, you gave me a gift basket to welcome me. It not only occurred to you to do that, but you also listened to me enough to know what I’d like and tried to give credit to everyone even though they didn’t help. I feel like that strongly falls into the category of being a good person.”

“I’m not — I — ” Suddenly he was flustered, her favorite look for him. It was adorable. “You knew it was from me?”

She snorted. “You’re kidding, right? You were the one I talked to the most and who could’ve known all that stuff about me. That cutesy animal card reeked of you, not to mention how you signed it from “the Avengers” when I bet if it was actually from everyone, they would have just signed their own names. Or, actually, they probably would have just given it to me as a group in person, you know? Oh, and the fact that none of them knew about it. That was a dead give away.”

Peter kept his eyes on his juice, cheeks tinted red. “I just wanted you to feel at home,” he mumbled. 

“I know.” She smiled and touched his shoulder, causing him to look at her. “I really appreciated it.” She pulled her hand back before he could think too much of it. 

Peter appeared lost for a moment, but pleased nonetheless. He scratched the back of his neck. “Mr. Stark has been pretty stressed recently. I was thinking about trying to do something special for him. I don’t know what he likes though.”

Normally these kind intentions of his made her happy, but right now she forced her smile. Recently she’d been attempting to decipher if she was at all special to Peter or if she was just another friend, or worse, just another colleague. It was impossible to tell. He was sweet to her, but he was like that with everyone, because that was who he was. The only different relationship she’d seen from him was what looked like a growing father-son dynamic between him and Tony. Tony’s sparse moments of pride usually came from seeing Peter mature and improve his abilities and his praise made Peter light up in a way nothing else did. Tony’s importance to Peter was obvious, so the lack of similarity within their own relationship probably meant he was fond of her and nothing more. She could live with being a friend of his, hopefully a close friend one day, but it still hurt to know she’d never stand out from the others to him.

“What’d you have in mind?” she asked, pushing down her thoughts.

“I dunno,” he said. “Kind of goes back to the ‘don’t know what he likes’ thing. I thought you might have some ideas.”

Wren’s eyebrows raised. “Me? Why would I?”

Peter tilted his head. “Because you know him?”

She bowed her head. “I think you’re using ‘know’ pretty loosely there. He’s pretty much an acquaintance. We’ve barely talked to each other.”

“Must have been some important stuff then, I think he’s fond of you.” He took a drink.

“I’ve never gotten that vibe. You’re probably reading too much into it.” She shoved her knuckles into her thighs, eyes on her lap.

Peter shook his head. “Mr. Stark can be pretty serious, but I think when he cares, you know it. Just maybe has a particular way of showing it.”

“Maybe. If he does, I haven’t figured it out. I get the feeling he’s almost always sure of himself. And when he’s not, that’s usually a bad sign. But outside of that...I don’t think I can ever tell quite what he’s thinking.”

“I know that feeling,” he said. She raised her head to look at him.

“I thought you just said you can tell when he cares?”

To her surprise, Peter was the one to break eye contact. “I meant you.” He shifted on the stool. “I get the feeling that you’re…” He shook his head as he trailed off, as if thinking better of what he was about to say. “A-anyway...how’s training going?” It was a blatant pivot, but she took it with gratitude.

“It’s fine,” she said. “Sort of. I don’t know, hologram training only has so many uses. It helps me with my aim, reaction times, and agility, but the lack of realism makes it hard for me to tell how well I’m actually doing. I’m not great at knowing the effect the water would have in real life. Like today, I hit two guys at once with a little water each. That’s enough to progress the hologram to the next stage, but I know that it wouldn’t have done much in real life. But a lot’s been going on recently to take up everyone’s time, so...it’s what I’ve got.”

“I’m available,” Peter said, both matter-of-fact and overeager. He cleared his throat, summoning casualness that wasn’t there before. “I-I mean, I’m generally available, but I definitely am this weekend and stuff. Just doing the regular Friendly Neighborhood Spider-Man thing.”

Wren laughed. “You brush the ‘Friendly Neighborhood Spider-Man’ thing off so easily, like it’s a normal hobby lots of people have.”

He shrugged. “I’m excited to do it because I enjoy looking out for the people around here, but I guess it’s kind of normal to me at this point. I don’t think about it as much as I used to.”

Was that how she’d be someday? The newness of even potentially being a hero hadn’t worn off for her yet. She couldn’t imagine the wonder of any sort of prestige or remarkable deeds wearing off anytime soon. The difference in attitudes shown a spotlight on their differences in experience and she felt more amateur than ever.

“But that’s beside the point,” he continued. “My point was that I’m here if you need someone to practice with later. Or now. Or whenever.”

She smiled. “Thanks. I’ll probably take you up on that offer later. Or now. Or whenever.”

Her teasing evoked a smile and a glimmer in his eyes. Peter stood, stretching and lifting the bottom of his shirt to reveal a few inches of skin. “You want eggs?” He scratched the back of his head. “I mean, I’m going to make myself some for supper. Do you want any?”

Wren stifled a laugh to not embarrass him. “Yeah, thanks.”

“Scrambled good?” Peter set a pan on the stove and turned on the heat.

“Yeah,” she said as he grabbed the eggs. 

He opened the bread and took out a few slices. “You want toast?” She nodded and he filled the four-slice toaster. She poured herself a glass of juice while Peter cracked several eggs, stirring them as they cooked. 

As she watched him, Wren smiled. “Did you suggest scrambled because you suck at flipping eggs without breaking the yoke?”

Peter didn’t turn toward her, but he had a slight pout. “Maybe.” The toast popped a minute later and as he was buttering it was the moment Tony chose to enter. Even outside of battle every step he took was calculated and confident, she assumed from his experience with being in the public eye, first as a genius and owner of Stark Industries and then as Iron Man. Most of the Avengers had a strong presence, but Tony’s always struck her as remarkably poised.

“What, didn’t think to offer me any?” he asked, pouring himself a cup of coffee. “All I do for you and I can’t even get any eggs.” This time the joking was obvious. “Kids these days.”

For a split second Peter didn’t know how to respond and Wren couldn’t understand the source of his momentary panic. He knew Tony better than her. Couldn’t he see he was kidding?

“Don’t worry, we’ll make you some next time,” he said, cracking a smile. He returned to the eggs, but he was still glancing at Tony.

A small, proud smile Wren didn’t understand appeared on Tony’s face. “I see what you’re doing.” He nodded in approval before leaving. 

“What you’re doing?” Wren raised an eyebrow. “Cooking is pretty self-explanatory.”

“It’s nothing,” Peter said as the eggs finished and he served them between two plates. For Peter’s sake, she dropped it.

Peter dove into his food while Wren poked at hers, mind elsewhere. It didn’t take long for him to notice.

“You could have said no to the eggs if you didn’t want them,” he said. He was smiling, but uncertain. 

“No, no, I’m sorry,” she said, shaking her head as if she could physically force herself into the present. “I was just, uh, thinking about what you said before.”

“What’d I say?” He set down his fork, his expression transitioning to concern.

“N-nothing bad,” she said before he became too worried. “Just...what you said about your aunt taking me in if we’d known each other back then. I just...I don’t think that’s true. N-not to insult your aunt. I bet she’s wonderful. It’s not her, it’s me.”

“That sounds like a breakup line,” Peter said. Wren laughed at his attempt at humor. They both knew it was a lame joke, but she appreciated the effort.

“I just mean...I don’t know what I mean, I guess. I’m just not really a...a family type of person, you know? I don’t think I’m meant to have that.”

Peter’s face fell and her heart clenched. It was like kicking a puppy. Seeing someone so upbeat look sad, especially on her behalf, killed her. She told herself the contrast with his usual personality was the only reason it hurt her to see him crestfallen, but even in her head she couldn’t complete the lie. She knew it was more than that. When the Avengers had taken her in, Peter hadn’t been intimidating like them. It wasn’t that the others had intended to overwhelm her, as they’d tried to be welcoming; but there was something inherently intense about a room full of well-known superheroes from all walks of life, like meeting a popstar or actor adored by thousands or millions of fans. Yet, even though Spider-Man had a similarly heroic reputation to the others and fans of his own, Peter himself felt like a normal guy. People like Tony and the others couldn’t turn off their star power, but Peter felt like a normal, sweet, down-to-earth guy. He’d tried the hardest to make her feel at home and was the best at doing so. He’d been the easiest to bond with, and that’s exactly what had happened.

“Everyone deserves a family,” he said after the long pause that had allowed her thoughts to drift again. “Why would you think you can’t have that?”

Wren’s inhale was sharp, her exhale shakey. Her hands were flat against her thighs. “I don’t know why I said that. Let’s just drop it.” She stood, her meal still untouched, and turned to walk away. 

“Wren.” He reached for her wrist, but he stopped before he touched her and his hand retreated. “Why do you always do that? We’re all here for you. You don’t have to keep closing yourself off.”

She stopped, her breathing impossibly loud in the surrounding silence. “I’m not closing myself off.” 

Peter rose from his stool. “Yes, you are. You always are, it’s why I can never read you. Why are you — ”

She spun halfway toward him. “Because no one wants me.” Her voice has all the impact of shouting without her having to raise it.

He flinched, as if she’d made a move to attack him. Guilt rippled through her and pooled in her stomach, but she turned away again and resumed leaving. This time, Peter rushed to position himself in front of her.

“What are you talking about?” It was a question but his tone said he was pleading with her. 

“It doesn’t matter.” He mirrored her when she stepped to his side.

“You can’t say things like that and not give an explanation.”

Wren sighed and closed her eyes. “I lied to you. And to everyone at school. When I said my mom died when I was a kid. And I lied to you again when I told you what my dad was like before he died. My mom...my mom is alive. She left us because she got pregnant with another man’s baby. That’s why I transferred to your high school. My dad wanted a change of scenery. And when he died, she still didn’t want anything to do with me. She didn’t have siblings and my dad’s sister didn’t want me either. My aunt and uncle only know about me what my dad has told them, and I don’t even want to know what he’s told them. He didn’t like me, he thought I was why mom cheated on him. Nobody wanted me, and no one wants me here either. I don’t know why I’m here.”

“You’re here because we all want you here. You’re one of us,” he said. 

“I’m one of you because I have powers, not because I’m any sort of family to them. They don’t even know me.” 

“Have you considered they’re keeping their distance because you have your guard up and they’re trying to respect your boundaries?” Peter asked, voice quiet.

She stiffened. The silence dragged on until Peter eventually stepped close again. The movement was slow, like she was a small animal that would be spooked at the slightest wrong move. That attitude was probably justified.

“We could be your family if you’d let us.” There was a softness in his eyes and face that made her relax for a second. His words registered after and her mouth became a hard line, unshed tears burning in her eyes. 

“I’m sorry,” she said, hurrying to her room and closing the door behind her before he could say anything more.

Wren pressed her back to the door and slid to the ground in the darkness. Maybe Peter was right. Maybe she was so used to being abandoned that she was always bracing herself for it now. In her preparation for not being wanted, she’d kept everyone out. Even Peter, who’d extended her a hand over and over again, who’d tried so hard to be her friend. She cared for him, but how much could she really if she didn’t even fully trust him? She’d lied to him, and all at once the guilt for that washed over her like an icy tide. The chill penetrated to her bones. She hugged her knees to her chest. She’d created a self-fulfilling prophecy, ruining every relationship she touched. Except with Peter, who was still there, trying to get her to let him in.

Wren was still against the door when a note was slid under it an hour later. It had been folded into a square, edges perfectly lined up with great care. Although it was at no risk of being torn, it still somehow felt fragile in her fingers. The words were small and neat: I’m sorry if I overstepped.

She squeezed her eyes shut with so much force she couldn’t tell if the oncoming tears were from the note or from pain. Why was he apologizing? Why was he always the one to feel bad when she was always the problem? At the same time, she couldn’t help but laugh in spite of herself. He had her phone number. He could have texted, but he slid a note under her door instead. It was oddly fitting for him. If she continued sitting here, he’d probably drive himself crazy with worry. That was who he was. Concern for him was the only reason she made herself stand and open the door.

“I don't want to talk,” she said before he could say anything.

“We don’t have to.” 

Her head was turned to the side, but even in her peripheral vision that pained expression strangled her. She took a deep breath. “I think I’ll take you up on that offer of training now.” It took all her effort, but she looked at him.

Peter nodded, and it was obvious he was trying to paste on a smile to help raise her spirits. She didn’t deserve that labor.

Still in her workout gear, Wren headed straight to the training room while Peter branched off to get his costume on. She lacked a hero costume, emphasizing her distance from the others, so for right now she practiced in a tank top, athletic shorts, and comfortable boots. Peter arrived faster than she’d anticipated, suctioning his Spider-Man attire to his body as he entered a couple minutes later.

“It’s still weird seeing you like that,” she said, her thumbs hooked in her pockets.

“Like what?” He strode up to her. “I’m Spider-Man, you’ve only ever seen me as Spider-Man.” He stopped, looked from side to side, then leaned in close. “You’re not claiming to know my secret identity, are you?”

She grinned. “You’re such a dork.” Wren playfully shoved his shoulder, and even though his face was covered, she could feel him grinning back. 

Peter put his hands in the air. “I don't know about that. I think you might be confusing me with another guy in a red bodysuit. I just have one of those faces, you know?”

She rolled her eyes, then placed her hands on either side of his head, gently turning it from side to side. “You know what? I think you’re right. You’re not the person I thought you were.” 

Peter went stiller than she’d ever seen him, saying nothing, then stepped back from her touch. Her hands dropped. Based on his reaction, she did something wrong. She was about to apologize when he said:

“How do you want to start?” He jogged backward to a wall, climbing up it like it was no big deal until he was directly above her. “Attack from above?” He shot the ceiling with his web and dropped upside down until he was eye-level with her. “Just run at you?”

“I don't know,” she said. She rocked on her feet. “I’m used to relying on the hologram, I don’t really know how to train outside of that. I was hoping you’d know.”

Peter flipped so he was upright, now standing beside her again. “Well, I learned on the field. I don’t know how helpful I’ll be.”

“Oh.” She pointed her gaze at the ground. “I guess that’s true of most of you, right?” Her eyes shifted over the room. “I guess this place is mostly for me.”

“Hey, don’t feel bad,” he said firmly. “I learned on the job because I  _ had _ to. I didn’t have the same opportunities you do now. Being able to learn in a safe environment is a good thing.” He glanced around, then walked to the other side of the room. “How about this: we’ll stick to the stuff you can’t do with the holograms. You’re already used to aiming and stuff, so how about you use me as a test dummy? Attack me and see what happens.”

Wren hesitantly approached the water bucket. “Are you sure? I don’t want you to get hurt.” A lump formed in her throat. Maybe she was being arrogant to assume she could do that much damage.

“I’m not worried. I don’t know if you know this, but I’m pretty strong.” He flexed, a sure sign he was making fun of himself. His humor made her relax and she nodded.

“Okay,” she said. She shifted her focus from him to the water. With time on her side, she used both hands right away, bringing up the entirety of the liquid. Her eyes flicked between it and Peter. He was halfway between the bucket and the wall, giving her room to hit from a distance and himself room to fly backwards if she hit him hard enough. Without warning, she flung both hands forward, a perfect sphere of water hurtling at Peter’s chest. It crashed into him, bursting in all directions, and his arms flailed in front of him as he was propelled into the back wall. The sound of collision was louder than she expected. Without thinking she raced toward him, sure she’d already gone too far. Wren dropped to her knees at his side. 

“I’m sorry,” she said. “I — ”

“I’m okay,” he said, rubbing the back of his head. “It’s my own fault. I was going to web in the opposite direction to stop myself before I hit the wall, but uh, I moved faster than anticipated.” He got up and brushed off his shoulders for dramatic affect. “Round two!” He paused. “Do you need to refill your bucket?”

Wren returned to her former position as she shook her head. “Not at all.” Wren made raking motions toward herself with her hands. What was thin streams of water on the floor soon gathered into puddles, then back into a single mass.

“Wow,” Peter said, and the comment made her giddy on the inside. “Not so bad for a new guy,” he added. 

She smirked. “Oh yeah?” She lowered the ball of water, returning it to a large puddle that slid along the floor until Peter was standing in it. The puddle began to shrink, collapsing in on itself.

“Hey, what are you — ” He was cut off when the puddle jerked up from under him, carrying him with it as it zipped into the air. “H-hey!” he said. He shot a string of web at the ceiling, swinging from the puddle right before he would have made contact with the ceiling. Peter gracefully swooped around and landed where he’d begun. “Rude!”

“Deserved,” she retorted. She summoned the water back to her.

“It was a good move though,” he admitted. She beamed and plopped the water in the bucket. “Is it true you can get water from the air?” he asked, catching her off-guard. “That’s what Tony told me.”

She raised an eyebrow. “You guys talk about me?”

“N-no,” he said without hesitation. “You just sort of come up sometimes. Casually. A-anyway, can you?”

“I can, but it’s harder.”

“Can you show me?” He took off his mask and she was unable to tell if the puppy dog eyes were intentional. Regardless, she couldn’t say no, and she couldn't deny that she enjoyed his intrigue. Wren nodded, wringing her hands. The pressure to meet his expectations weighed down on her as Peter watched her intently.

Unlike when she manipulated a body of water, she didn’t raise her hands. Instead, she stood entirely still. Although her eyes were open, she didn't let anything come into clear focus, her surroundings blurring into a faded memory at the back of her mind. Even her own breathing barely registered with her. All at once, it was like she was encased in water. Every particle of water vapor was at her fingertips. She raised one hand, and as if appearing out of nowhere, individual droplets appeared in the air above it. One, then three, then a dozen. Each new addition sucked into the others, increasing in size until a ball the size of a baseball had formed. As Wren became aware of her environment once more, she allowed the ball to drop into her hand, where she held it as if it were a solid. The world came back to her as quickly as it had gone, and she locked eyes with Peter, heart beating louder and faster than it should have been. He was staring at her with wide eyes.

“That’s so cool,” he gushed. He was lit up like a little kid meeting his hero. “I wish I could do that.”

She blushed, dumbstruck, never having thought much of her powers. Sure, they were cool to the average person, but compared to the Avengers? They were nothing. It wasn’t like she could burst open water towers and flood the city. His excitement produced a warm glow in her chest.

“I-it’s nothing,” she said.

“It’s not nothing,” he said, serious now. “It’s awesome.”

A mischievous thought came to her but she prevented it from showing, stepping close to him. She cast a glance over her shoulder to the door before returning her gaze to him. His growing curiosity was displayed on his face.

“Want to see something even cooler?” she said, voice low. Peter vigorously nodded.

Wren looked over her shoulder one more time, then brought the water ball directly into Peter’s face. She cackled and darted away before he could find a way to retaliate, her masterful plan not having considered Peter’s own abilities. 

“Why you — ” He cut himself off and a moment later a string of web glued to her back. He tugged on the web, her own energy working against her and forcing her to return like a yo-yo. She turned to tug on the web only to find she had no time to detach it before she bounced off Peter. As the lack of balance he’d created caused her to slip on the wet floor she’d created, an arm snaked around her torso, the only thing holding her upright. One hand instinctively gripped his shoulder for support.

The exact moment Wren could stand without his aid, Peter backed up, her hand dropping to her side. Was touching her that uncomfortable for him? He spoke before her heart could drop too low. 

“Don’t go twisting your ankle before your first day in the field, okay?” He ran his hand through his hair, leaving a mess more disheveled than his expression. His smile contrasted how he walked out of the room in a rush without another word. She watched him go before noticing that he’d dropped his mask. She picked it up and held it with both hands before returning her attention to the door. He was acting strange, and it didn't escape her that despite acting like he was going to take revenge on her for her prank, he hadn’t gotten any retaliation. Somehow that disappointed her.

Wren followed after her test dummy, her search fruitless until she came across his closed bedroom door. That was also odd. Peter didn’t spend much time by himself while he was at Avengers Tower, most commonly working on homework in the kitchen or dining room or lounging around on the couch. She knocked, for the first time since she’d met him uncertain if he was annoyed or wanted to be alone. There were footsteps from the other side before he opened the door. 

“Yeah?” he said. His mood had dampened for no reason she could discern. It wasn’t sadness, more like conflict, an emotion she was unaccustomed to seeing from him.

Feeling out of place, she didn’t look at him and held out the mask. “You left this behind.”

He took the mask, their fingertips brushing for half a second. She dared to examine his face while he stared at the mask like he didn’t recognize it. His gaze flicked to her before she could look away. “Thank you.”

Wren rubbed her arm. “Yeah.” They both moved to leave, but when she halted with her back to him, he did too. She turned around. “I’m sorry,” she said. 

Peter’s mood changed in an instant and his eyebrows furrowed together. “For what?”

“For...for lying to you. About what happened with my parents.”

“That wasn’t really your fault. I heard it at school.” He’d changed back into a sweater and jeans and shoved his hands in his pockets.

“Even if you did, when you brought it up to me the first time...I didn’t tell you otherwise. I let you believe that and that’s still lying. And I blatantly lied when I acted like my relationship with my dad was better than it was. It just...it just made me feel good to pretend, you know? I’ve been trying so hard to not think about him that I don’t even know how I’m feeling. I-If I feel...vindicated...or like I’ve lost something. But can I really lose something I never had? There’s nothing left now and I’m not sure it even makes a difference.” She rubbed the back of her neck. “I just wanted to say that. I don’t really feel bad about lying to everyone at school because it’s not like it’s their business anyway, but...it felt wrong lying to you. We’re closer than that, o-or at least...I thought we were.”

“We are.” He automatically put his hand on her arm to emphasize as she had earlier. To her pleasant surprise, he didn’t take the gesture back when he realized what he’d done.

“So...I guess that’s all I wanted to say. You trusted me, and I let you down, and I — ”

“It’s okay.” His touch fell from her arm to her hand, which he gave a squeeze before pulling back. “I’ve already forgiven you.”

“You shouldn’t that easily.” Her arm was cold without his hand there.

“It was sucky to find out, but...I get it. Sometimes things need to stay buried a little longer.” 

The empathy in his voice choked her up and she turned her head before he could see how glassy her eyes had gotten. “Something like that.”

“Maybe it’s not my place to say anything, but...” Peter ran his hand through his hair. “That feeling of having nothing...have you ever talked to Nat about that? Because...I think she could understand. Maybe help you.”

“I haven’t, no. I don’t really talk about it.”

He nodded. “Well...I think you should talk to her, when you’re ready to.”

“Yeah. Maybe I will. But first...can I show you something that’s actually cool?”

A switch flipped and he became apprehensive. “I don’t know if-”

“Come on.” Gathering her courage, she grabbed his hand and led him toward the training room. “You need to trust me.”

“After you betrayed me?”

“It was only water, you big baby. If we’re going to work together, you’re going to have to get used to getting wet.” The accidental double entendre was out before she could think and she resisted the urge to check his reaction. She shook it off and directed Peter in helping her bring three more buckets of water to the training room.

Standing in the center of the room with the buckets around her, she rubbed her hands together, then cracked them. He snorted.

“What are you laughing at?” she said.

“Oh nothing.” 

She stuck her tongue out at him. “You know what? Suddenly I’m not feeling it anymore, I’m gonna go watch a movie.”

He caught her wrist before she could finish a step. “Nope! You brought it up, now you have to show me. No take-backs.” He let go of her while she grinned.

“I’ve been practicing this a lot since it’s something I can do on my own, but I’ve never gotten to test if it works like I want it to. Walk a few feet away from me, and once I get going, shoot some web at me, or just generally throw something at me.”

He gave her a look but didn’t argue.

“Watch this.” With one hand, Wren raised the contents of one bucket into the air. With the other, she brought up the other three one by one, adding each to the first until they were one mass hovering in front of her.

“That’s a nifty water wall,” he said. She rolled her eyes again.

Her left hand continued to act as the water’s invisible foundation as she stuck her right index finger straight up and made small circles with it. The water spread like dough under a rolling pin, slowly and steadily wrapping around her until it attached at the other side. Peter was a blob through the sheet of water, but she wasn’t done. Swirling her finger transitioned into swirling her wrist, finger still up. The water began to spin around her, and as she picked up speed, she used her entire arm. She’d been working out recently and that came into play now, her muscles beginning to burn the longer she spun. In response, the water moved at a rate where it appeared more solid than liquid. She could no longer see Peter. 

“Do it,” she said, barely audible over the sound of rushing liquid. His web was no more than a tiny white blip in the vortex. Next came his cellphone, the only thing he must be carrying, and the water shot it back at him. A crash suggested he hadn’t caught it. To her shock, an arm appeared through the wall, but not for long. Peter yelped and pulled it back. Her arm beginning to tire, her movement slowed and the water did so in turn, until it was back to a simple wall, then returned to the buckets. 

Peter was rubbing his arm. “That’s definitely going to bruise,” he pouted. 

“Aw, do you need me to kiss it?” she asked as she came up to him.

He looked away from her. “Again, rude.” He picked his broken phone off the ground. “You killed it.”

She laughed. “You should have known better than to throw that in there.” She played with the hem of her tank top. “Well? What did you think?”

“That was...” He shook his head. “Amazing. How long have you been working on that?”

“Before I got here,” she said, glowing with pride. She picked up a bucket and he took two before they left.

“Too bad you can’t hold it for very long,” he said. “If you could keep that going...it may not be a force field, but it’s pretty damn close.” 

“I’m working on that. I’ve been working out a bit, but I only started recently. Maybe in a few months I’ll be as ripped as you.” She swallowed. Did that make it sound like she’d been checking him out? 

“I don’t know about that,” he said, but there was a twinkle in his eye. He glanced at the buckets, then at her. “Question.”

“Yeah?” 

Peter dumped out the buckets. “When you took the water from the air instead of using stuff that was already there, you got all focused and took your time. Does it have to take that long?”

“No,” she said, the two now returning for the last bucket. “It’s easier though. And sort of safer. When I’m manipulating water that’s already there, it doesn’t take much energy, unless I’m moving a lot like with that little water vortex. It’s different when I have to gather it myself. The way I did it before didn’t affect me much, but if I’d tried to go faster it would have. It’s like a light jog versus a sprint. The faster I try to go and the more water I try to collect, the more it affects me. When I first began learning how to use my abilities, I had to find my limits. Pushing too hard can drain me fast.”

Peter nodded. “Is your limit set? Like, does practice allow you to push yourself further?” He picked up the last bucket with ease.

“It’s improved, but it’s a slow process. I have to be careful. Fainting from overexertion isn’t a fun time.”

“I wouldn’t imagine so.” He poured the water and they returned the buckets to storage. “Well, I can’t wait to see what you manage to accomplish when we’re out in a couple days.”

Wren shrugged. “We might not see any crimes anyway.”

“Maybe, maybe not.” Peter plopped onto the couch and she sat beside him. 

“Hey Peter?” Her eyes were on her lap.

“Yeah?”

“Does it...are you bothered that you got stuck with me for my first day on the field? It’s not like Tony asked you what you thought, and I’m not very experienced, and — ”

“Wren.” His voice was hard but his eyes were soft. “Of course I’m not bothered. I want you there.” He became fidgety. “Actually, I...I asked Tony if you could come out with me. I’m not as experienced as the others, but he agreed that my low-risk methods are a good starting point for you.”

Her heart caught in her throat. “You want me along?”

“Yeah. I-I mean, unless you don’t want to come with me.” His head snapped to face her. “I know Tony made it command, but I know if you really weren’t comfortable coming with me because I’m not as experienced, he’d — ”

“Peter,” she said. He clammed up. “There’s no one I’d rather train with. I feel safe with you.”

He looked away, cheeks pink and puffed out. “Good.” His face relaxed and he played with a loose string on his sweater. “You mean that?”

“Mean what?” 

“That...you feel safe with me.”

“Without a doubt.” His eyes followed her as she fetched grapes from the kitchen and returned to the couch, popping one in her mouth.

“You sound awfully confident.” His tone and face bordered on sad.

“Of course I am.” She ate another grape, then tilted her head. “Is this your way of foreshadowing to me that you’re secretly evil and I shouldn’t trust you?” 

“N-no, I just...” He ran his hand through his hair.

“Want a grape?” she asked while he searched for the words.

He was amused. “Sure.” He opened his mouth and she tossed a grape into it.

“First try that time! We’re getting better.”

Peter nodded and swallowed. “I’m just worried is all. What if I can’t protect you?”

“Hey, maybe I’ll be the one protecting you,” she joked. When his grim look didn’t subside, she set the grapes on the end table and scooted closer to him, until their legs were nearly touching. She’d never seen him look so nervous. Wren clasped his hand with hers, an act that elicited brief wide eyes but no response. “It’ll be fine. Nothing ever happens to Friendly Neighborhood Spider-Man, right? Neither of us will need protection because nothing’s going to happen. Okay?”

He gave a curt nod, his grip on her hand tightening. “How did the less experienced one end up being the reassuring one?” he said, his smile returning after what felt like an eon’s absence. Its arrival made her feel lighter.

“I wouldn’t have to if you weren’t such a big baby,” she said, half afraid he’d tense up again, but he didn't. 

“Whatever,” he said, nudging her shoulder with his free hand.

“What are you two up to?”

Both of them jerked in surprise, attention drawn to Natasha, a mug of coffee in her hands. One eyebrow was raised, her gaze on their linked hands. The pair simultaneously let go and Wren slid to the middle cushion. Peter’s eyes bounced from Natasha to Wren. He leaned into the latter.

“Give her a chance, even if it’s not now,” he whispered. With that, he stood, giving Natasha a goodbye before leaving. 

“He’s abandoning you to explain, huh?” She sat on the couch perpendicular to the one Wren occupied, an end table connecting the right angle.

“There’s nothing to explain,” she said, unconvincing even to herself. The warmth of his hand and his reaction to her taking it were both stuck in her head. It was impossible to tell what anything meant to him, and now wasn’t the time anyway. “I was actually hoping to talk to you.”

“Oh? I’m intrigued.What’s up, kid?” Natasha folded her legs atop the couch. There was a certain air of professionalism and elegance about her that went with the white couches and minimalist art on the walls. Her nails and lips were both painted bright red. 

Wren dug her nails into her thighs. When she tried to find the words, she became unable to breathe.

“Are you okay?” she lowered her mug, earlier entertainment vanishing.

“Yes. No. I...” She took a deep breath, only to blurt, “What was your family like?”

Although Natasha was taken aback, she wasn’t overall surprised.

“I-I’m sorry,” Wren said. “It’s not really any of my business, I — ”

“It’s okay,” she said, calm as ever. She set her beverage on a coaster. “I figured you’d be asking about that eventually.” She pulled her legs from the couch and crossed them, hands in her lap. “I didn’t really have a family.”

Wren’s heart stopped. “You...you didn’t?”

“No. I didn’t. Do you know where the name Black Widow comes from?”

Wren shook her head. 

“It’s from the U.S.S.R.’s ‘Black Widow Ops’ program I was raised in. I was trained in combat and espionage, and I never knew my parents.” Her middle finger absently traced the edge of the mug. “I never had a family or a life of my choosing before I came here, and believe me, it was a long road to get here.” She picked up her coffee, clutching it with both hands but not taking a drink. There was a faraway look in her eyes. When Natasha came back to the present, she eyed the younger Avenger. “Any particular reason that question is coming up now?”

Wren’s hands had become fists. “I told Peter the truth about my family today.”

Natasha nodded. “I see.” She took a sip. “How are you feeling about that?”

“I...I think I expected a different reaction. Pity. But he just seemed worried about me.”

“Why would he pity you?” she asked.

“That’s always how it is. Whenever I’ve told a friend the truth, they always have that look. My mom abandoned me and my dad died and he didn’t even like me when he was alive, and now I’m alone. They look at me like I’m an injured puppy or something. They always stop acting like my friend and start acting like my parent even though that’s not what I want or need from them. I don’t get why he didn’t do the same thing everyone else does.”

“Do you pity Peter?” she said.

“Of course not,” Wren said.

“But both his parents are dead, and so is his uncle, who was like a father to him. How can you not pity that?”

“I would never look down on him for that,” she snapped. “He’s strong, he doesn’t need anyone pitying him.”

Natasha smiled knowingly. “If you can feel that way about him, why would you assume he can’t feel that way about you? Perhaps you’re more resilient than you give yourself credit for and he sees that. Have you ever considered that the way people have treated you in reaction to your situation has nothing to do with you and everything to do with them?”

“No,” Wren said, voice low.

“I didn’t think so,” Natasha said. “So...if that’s why you’re putting up all the walls, stop. These people became my family when I never thought I could have one. We can be yours too, but only if you let us.”

Wren nodded. “Yeah.” 

“If you ever want to talk, vent...you know where to find me.”

She nodded again. “Thank you.”

A few minutes passed in companionable silence before Natasha said, “So, are you going to see Peter as a brother now, then?”

Wren visibly tensed. “I-I, uh — ”

Natasha smiled with satisfaction. “I didn’t think so.” She took a final swig of her coffee and stood. Looking at Wren over her shoulder, she said, “I know you’re the closest to Peter out of any of us, but something tells me you have particular walls up around him, too. You might want to let those down while you have the chance.” With that, she winked and walked off to the kitchen, leaving Wren to contemplate her words. 

A few minutes later, Peter popped his head out of his room, and with the lack of Natasha he returned to the scene. When he saw her face, he knew she’d broached the topic, even if only a little. He stood in front of her.“How you feeling?” he asked gently.

She gave him a small, content smile. “Good, I think. And sometimes that’s the best you can ask for.” She got to her feet, a few inches from him now. “Peter?”

“Yeah?” 

In a burst of courage, she wrapped her arms around his neck, pulling him in for a tight hug. “Thank you,” she said, releasing him before he so much as had the chance to embrace her back.

“For what?” he said, a hand going through his already messy hair. She’d always noticed that tendency of his, but it seemed to be in overdrive recently. He was cute when he was confused. Then again, he was always cute.

She laughed. “Giving me courage.”

“I didn’t do anything. You did.”

“Yeah,” she said. “But...you were here.” Wren squeezed his hand before heading to the training room. She wanted to be ready for tomorrow. She wanted to prove herself.

***

It was almost noon, and despite having been up since six, Wren hadn’t left her room yet. From the moment she woke up, she knew what today was, and she was yet to unfurl the tight ball she’d tucked herself into. Her bed was an unstable ship being tossed recklessly among the waves, causing nausea and dizziness to wash over her again and again. Friendly Neighborhood Spider-Man. Those words became a silent mantra as she tried to reassure herself that nothing would happen. Peter had been in battles, but battles he’d been pulled into or sought, not ones that had arrived on his doorstep. Trouble did not find him. Yet all the logic in the world could not stop her from a cold certainty that somehow, someway, her presence would be the beacon drawing in danger that wouldn’t normally befall him. 

Someone knocked at the door and she became smaller still, and it was probably going to be Peter telling her he was heading out. It wasn’t too late to fake illness. She cringed at the thought. Less than twelve hours ago she’d been apologizing for lying to him. She didn’t want to do that again.

“I don’t have all day, kid.” It was Tony, and she’d never been so relieved to hear his voice. She made her way to the door with a body heavier than ever. When she opened the door, he said, “Come on, I’ve got something to give you before you leave.” He was walking away before she could respond, leaving no choice but to follow. As she caught up to him, his words settled with her. They’d be leaving soon. What if she wasn’t ready?

In the living room, a briefcase sat on the coffee table. 

“It’s not high-tech like Peter’s,” Tony said, “given that both your arrival and the decision to send you onto the field were both recent. Not to mention that I’m still learning to understand your powers and aid them properly. Regardless, I thought you could use a suit.”

When Tony didn’t open the briefcase, Wren hesitantly took that as her cue to do so. The shiny silver box was more intimidating to her than it had any right to be, but she unclasped it despite her want to run from the situation and lifted the garment for examination.

Like the Spider-Man suit, it was one piece aside from the mask. Unlike the Spider-Man suit, it had significantly less coverage. She should have expected as much given that she made similar accommodations with her workout gear. The practicality of her training tank top and shorts came not just from the heat of exercising but from water spraying on her when she was fighting close-range. It was easy to become soaked in normal attire and even water-proof gear, which it was, could only do so much. The outfit was shades of watery blue and silver, with shorts that came mid-thigh and a couple inches of sleeve. What it took her a minute to notice was the lack of symbol.

Wren turned to Tony, mouth open, but he anticipated her question before she could ask.

“All this time and you never came up with a name,” he said. “That’s a bit relevant when you’ve got the secret identity thing going. I’ll add a symbol for you when you figure out who you are.” 

His comment spurred her to pick up the mask, a matching blue fabric that went from below the eye to halfway up the forehead. There were secure metal clasps in the back. 

“Why don’t you go try it on? And don’t forget these.” He produced a smaller case and withdrew a pair of laceless silver shoes. She nodded and left the room with the ensemble in her arms.

In the privacy of her bedroom, Wren took her time trying on the costume. It had looked small in the case, and now that it was on she saw just how skin-tight it was. Again, the decision made sense for her powers, but that didn’t make her feel good about it. She would have thought such a suit would have been uncomfortable, but it was the opposite. She could barely feel it, which was probably also part of appeal. Wren tested it with stretching and a few somersaults, only to find it didn't restrict her in the slightest. It acted less like a suit and more like a part of her body. Satisfied, she put on the mask, her black hair falling over the clasps. The shoes slipped on easily but seemed to meld to her feet. Without needing to ask, she could guess they were also waterproof and non-slip. She was unsure how she felt about the look as she scrutinized herself in the mirror. The colors complemented both her skin and her abilities, but she ran a hand over her stomach and hips. She was hardly an insecure person, but something this tight didn’t allow for secrets, and she didn’t have Peter’s abs. Wren shoved away thoughts of him and strode out of her room before she could talk herself out of it. 

Tony smiled when he saw her. She could have been misinterpreting, but she thought she saw pride in his eyes. That alone eased some of her concerns about the entire situation, much less the outfit.

“I have to say I did a fantastic job,” he said, but they both knew his thoughts weren’t solely focused on his own designing prowess. 

“Thank you, Tony,” she said.

“Don’t thank me yet. Thank me when I’ve gotten you a real suit with all the abilities you could need. And a symbol, of course.”

“I don't know if I should have one,” she said without thinking. “A-a symbol, I mean. Or a name, really. It’s not like I’m a real hero like you or Natasha or Peter. I’m not...anyone. I can’t save anyone.”

Tony crossed his arms. “Kid, do you think any of us came out of the womb doing what we do? We weren’t born this way. We chose this, and we continue to choose it over and over, every day. The greatest things in life aren’t the things that happen to you, they’re the ones you choose. Choosing to be kind, choosing to love, choosing to keep moving forward. It’s easy to let things slip away when they stop being easy, but that’s not who we are. I have a feeling that’s not who you are, either. No one can make you have this life. If you want to, you can walk out that door and have whatever life you’re willing to work for. Or you can stay here and see what you’re capable of. But no matter what, that choice is on you, so choose wisely.”

Wren froze, staring at him with muted dread and a chaotic frenzy of thoughts. She’d never been so thankful for a distraction as when Peter strolled into the room, Spider-Man suit on, mask in hand.

“You ready to go?” he asked, chipper.

She turned toward him, her earlier feelings about her costume resurfacing. 

Peter stopped in his tracks when he saw her, eyes roaming over her new hero look. “Wow. You look...” He trailed off, then first noticed Tony. “Hi, Mr. Stark.”

“Well, good luck,” Tony said, clapping his hands. He eyed Peter. “Come see me when you get back, all right?” Peter nodded and Tony took his leave.

“You look....heroic,” Peter said, finishing his earlier sentence.

“Very creative,” she said. His smile eased her nerves.

“Do you have anything left to do before we go?” he asked. “Need a snack?”

“Oh shush.” She swatted his arm as she passed him on her way to the door. “Let’s just go.”

“Yes ma’am,” he said, catching up as she should have passed through the front door. Instead of doing so, she jerked to a halt and Peter bumped into her back. He came around her side to see her face transfixed with horror. “Are you okay?” he asked, his hand light on her shoulder.

“Y-yeah,” she said, but she didn’t move. “It’s just...I’ve never been out there not as myself, you know? It’s...I can’t not draw attention this way.”

Peter nodded. “So let’s start from the top straight away, then.” He headed off in the opposite direction, leading her to the roof of Avengers Tower. “Better?” Peter asked, walking to the ledge. “No one can see you up here. It’s just me and you.”

That caused a different nervousness for Wren, but he didn’t need to know that. “Yes,” she said. 

Peter smiled at her, then chuckled to himself as she approached him. 

“What?” she asked.

“It’s time to have some fun.” 

Anxiety and anticipation both flooded her stomach. “Do I want to know what that means?”

“Hold onto me if you want to live,” he said, stepping within inches of her.

“W-what?” she said, stumbling back.

“I’m kidding,” he said. “Well, not really. We’re going to go swinging, so holding on is pretty important.”

“I’m going to swing around the city with you? Are you insane?”

“How did you think we were going to get around?” He grinned with amusement. “I mean, if you want to walk everywhere, we can go back downstairs and — ”

“N-no,” she said, jolting toward him. “No, swinging is good, staying on the rooftops is good.” 

“Good,” Peter said. His snarkiness fell away as he looked over her, reaching for her then pulling his hand back several times. 

His hesitation restored her confidence, and she took his hand, bringing it around her waist. He avoided meeting her eyes, only doing so for a half a second at a time. 

“I’m just gonna...” She flexed her legs to show her intention before jumping and wrapping her legs around his thighs and her arms around his neck. His grip tightened on her, making them closer than they’d ever been, which thrilled her as much as it made her want to run. For a few seconds they stared at each other.

“Peter?” she said.

“Yeah?” he said, somehow choking on a single syllable.

She smiled. “Don’t forget to put on your mask.”

He laughed, awkward at first, then much more relaxed as the tension. He pulled his mask on with his free hand, touching the spider symbol on his chest to secure it in place.

“Ready?” he asked. 

Wren swallowed. “Y-yeah. Like I said. I...I feel safe with you.” Right as she looked away to the surrounding buildings, Peter leapt from the edge. 

“Don’t drop meeee,” she said, screaming the last word as they dropped through the air like an anchor. Regrets were flashing in her mind when a string of web shot from Peter’s wrist to the bottom of a billboard. Their freefall became an arc plenty far from the ground as they sailed from one side of the billboard to the other, then broke off from the strand to land on another building. 

“Fuck, fuck, fuck,” she said, clinging to Peter so tightly she expected him to complain.

“You’re okay, you’re okay,” he said instead, his voice friendly and self-assured. “I got you. I’m not going to let anything happen to you.”

She nodded, but she didn’t stop shaking for another minute, and Peter waited for her go-ahead to launch them off again. With each swing, her feelings of imminent peril faded. She trusted him. He wouldn’t be doing this if he wasn’t sure it was safe for her. After awhile, it felt less unstable, and his arm felt more like the safety bar of the roller coaster keeping her in place. She was secure, and at some point they’d whizzed around enough for her to stop thinking about it. Once she’d calmed down, she could instead focus on Peter’s arm around her, and how good it felt to be this intimate with him, even if not in the context she wanted. Even though she knew Peter wasn’t thinking about this experience the way she was, for this moment she could pretend this wasn’t a mere act of duty to accustom her to combat should any arise. 

Hours were spent swinging from building to building. She watched from the rooftops as Peter assisted people with normal things like carrying heavy bags of groceries. At this moment, she sat atop on apartment building while he helped an older man change a tire. He really was Friendly Neighborhood Spider-Man, for whom no one and no problem was unimportant. Despite the secret identity, Spider-Man and the man behind the mask were not removed from each other. Spider-Man was an extension of Peter instead of an alter-ego, and the deep-rooted kindness that showed through with each of his actions filled her with warmth. He was a teddy bear through and through. Even better, he wasn’t ashamed of his nature, but embraced it. Unlike her, he knew who he was. If she ever became a real hero, would her personality shine through her hero identity as well? And if it did, what would it say about her? What person would she be offering to the world?

“I’m back.” Peter appeared, crawling onto the roof from the wall. He sat beside her, legs dangling over the edge as hers were, and pulled off his mask. “You look deep in thought. You okay?”

“You ask me that a lot.”

He winced. “I’m sorry.”

“No, no,” she said, a hand on his forearm. “It wasn’t a criticism. Just...an observation.” She paused. “I like that about you.”

“Like what?” He was looking at her, but she looked out to the city.

“You’re always so deeply concerned about everyone around you,” she said.

“I wouldn’t say that,” Peter said, rubbing his arm. “I mean, I do care about all people. But it’s not like I extend the level of care toward everyone.”

“You’re always asking me if I’m okay and worrying about me,” she said.

“Exactly.”

“Exactly?” Wren finally faced him, only to have him then gaze straight ahead.

“Y-yeah. You’re...special...to me.” He looked at her then at his hands as he played with his mask.

Her heart filled up with his acknowledgement of her importance to him, only to drop again. They were friends, and she was the only person his age in the Avengers. Of course she stood out a little. That didn’t mean his feelings matched hers.

“You’re special to me, too,” she said, and he smiled at his mask. 

“Well that’s good,” he said, “because I don’t know what I would do if I was just another Joe Schmoe on the street to you.” Another look and then look away.

“Of course you aren’t. You’re Peter Parker, and I’ll take alliteration over rhyme any day.”

He rolled his eyes and nudged her shoulder with his, grin large. “That was terrible and you know it.”

“Of course. Why do you think I said it?” She nudged him back. 

Peter chuckled under his breath. “You’re so...”

“Lame?” The self-deprecation was light-hearted, but he shook his head. 

“No. I was going to say...” He shook his head again. “I don't know what I was going to say.”

Wren took a deep breath, scooting a couple inches closer to him while he wasn’t looking, though he noticed from the corner of his eye.

“Hey, Peter?” she said. 

He side-eyed her. “Yeah?”

“When you were telling me to talk to Natasha about my whole family thing, since she understands not really having one and you were worried about me...” She gripped her wrist. “Why didn’t you talk to me yourself? You’re...you’re the one who understands loss.”

Peter tensed and she dove in with an apology.

“I-I’m sorry, I — ”

“You don’t need to — ”

“Yes I — ”

“Wren.” He looked at her, crestfallen. Her heart clenched. She made him miserable. She shouldn’t have asked.

“Please, please don’t apologize.” His head turned forward again and he took a deep breath, struggling to find the words. “It’s not that I didn’t want to be there for you, but...I don’t know what to say. With my parents, I was six, and most of my memories of them are these vague snapshots. But when Uncle Ben died…” He dragged both hands through his hair before resting both forearms against his lap, his body slumped over. “I wasn’t really focused on me. May needed me. I needed to be there for her, and I couldn’t do that if I was the one falling apart.”

“She never would have wanted you to hold back for her sake, Peter.” Although Wren had never met Peter’s aunt, he frequently talked about her and it was clear he adored and looked up to her. She had no doubts about the kind of woman May was and knew someone as caring as her wouldn’t want her orphaned nephew to sacrifice for her. 

“I know,” he said unexpectedly. “But...that doesn’t mean I shouldn’t. I don’t want to make things worse for her.”

“Peter, from the way you talk about her, she cares for you like her own son. How could you ever think she’d be burdened by you? And...don’t you think she’s caught on? Do you really think she believes you don’t miss him or think about him or want to talk about him? Do you think you’ve convinced her that you’re not mourning?”

His eyes had grown glassy. “She’s tried to talk to me. I always find a reason not to. It was pretty easy, always being gone swinging around the neighborhood and stuff. Now she’s stopped asking. She talks about him sometimes. Not that much though. It’s just that sometimes she’ll be acting normal and then she’ll see or do something that reminds her of him, and she’ll just start crying. I try to do something and she used to let me, but recently she’s just wanted to be alone. She’ll go to her bedroom and come out half an hour later acting like nothing happened. And I play along, because I think that’s what she needs from me.”

Less than a minute passed before he said, “You want to say something.” Even without looking at her he knew.

“No, I don’t, Peter.”

“I thought you weren’t gonna lie to me anymore.” He tilted his head to eye her, but only for a split second.

She swallowed, then bit her lip. “I just think it’s hypocritical for you to accuse me of putting up walls and shutting people out when you’re doing the same thing to May right now. Have you ever considered she’s keeping her distance because  _ you _ have  _ your _ guard up and she’s trying to respect  _ your  _ boundaries? In refusing to deal with your own grief you’ve probably made her feel like his death isn’t something you’re willing to deal with. She wants to protect you as much as you want to protect her, probably even more. So if she thinks sheltering you from her grief is what you need, that’s what she’s going to do. You’re avoiding it, so she is, too. I know you want to protect her, but...this isn’t how.”

“Then how do I do it, huh?” he said, one of the only times she’d witnessed anger from him. It was gone the next second, his head dropping. He squeezed his eyes shut, willing months of bottled emotion to sink back beneath the surface. His efforts contorted his face into one she’d never seen. “I just...want her...to be okay,” he said, choking as his loss crawled its way up his throat. 

“Peter — ” She cut herself off as something inside him broke. His name alone kicked the single stone holding off an avalanche, and then everything collapsed. 

Peter’s fingers dug into his hair and his back shook as strangled sobs clawed their way out of him. He fought for breath as his knuckles turned white from tension. Within seconds the edge of a building felt like a dangerous spot for him to be.

“Come on,” she said, grabbing his hand and standing. Without the motivation to resist, he stumbled after her, only to keep going when she stopped. He crumpled against her and she barely had enough strength to keep them both standing. She clumsily lowered them to the ground, Peter collapsing onto hands and knees, each breath full of effort. Regret at having voiced her thoughts at his insistence washed over her, but she didn’t have time to think about it as she knelt before him. Despite his raspy breathing, there weren’t many tears on his face, like an hourglass that could only allow so much sand through at a time. 

“Peter,” she said, voice more delicate than she was used to using with anyone, much less him.

He used what was left of his energy to push himself into a sitting position, his legs folded at his side, palms against the ground. Peter’s whole body was trembling when she repositioned herself in front of him, cupping his face to make him face her though his eyes were still downcast.

“Peter,” she repeated. “Please look at me.”

He raised his eyes, already red, his skin flushed, his nose running. There was an intense exhaustion about him that made her own resolve feel like it was leaking from her body, but she powered through. Her lips parted before she knew what she was going to say, which didn’t matter, because he stopped her anyway.

“I don’t — I don’t want to hurt her, or you, or —”

“Peter—”

“No! No.” He got to his feet, Wren doing the same. Peter began to pace sporadically. “I can’t—I don’t—I don’t know what to do. I don’t know what she needs from me—what anyone needs from me—I just—” Despite his disjointed speech, the fact that he was speaking at all was a positive sign.

She caught his wrists and his head jolted to face her. He was frenzied and lost and she wasn’t sure she knew how to help him. “Breathe,” she said in a futile attempt to calm him. Seeing the lack of effect, one of Wren’s hands went to the side of his face. “Breathe,” she said again, firmer this time. They’d never had sustained eye contact for so long, but he finally relaxed though his breath remained shaky. Right as she was about to smile and find something reassuring to say, Peter pulled away, swiping the snot from his face with the back of his hand and turning his back on her. He shoved his hands in his pockets, stopping at the edge of the building. She approached timidly, unsure if he wanted her there. Even then, she stay a couple feet behind him to his side, waiting for him to make a move.

“Wren?” he said, his voice scratchy but becoming more normal. He looked over his shoulder at her and she took that as a cue to stand next to him.

“Yeah?”

“What’s it like to lose someone you didn’t love?”

Normally questions about her parents made Wren tense and avoidant, but right now her peace surprised her. “It’s not really about a lack of love,” she said. “That’s not really how it works. At least not for me. It’s like...a food you’re allergic to. It looks good, it tastes good, and you can’t help but love it, but...it doesn’t love you back. Even though part of the experience is good it always hurts you. But it’s like you keep forgetting that. Even though you know you’ll regret it, you always try it again, because some stupid part of you thinks that maybe something had changed. When part of the experience is good, you forget for awhile that a bigger part is bad. But no matter how many times you get reminded again, it never sticks. You can’t stop coming back, over and over again. It’s like that. It’s like repeatedly choosing to jump back into a lake that tries to drown you every time. 

“I loved my dad, and I hated that I loved my dad, and I hate that I still kind of love him now. I didn’t know how to let go of him while he was alive, and I know how to even less now that he’s gone. Somehow being gone is worse. Because now I can’t keep diving in thinking it’s safe this time, I can’t keep eating thinking something has changed. It’s all...set in stone now, which means all I can do is look back and feel stupid. And feel even more stupid now, for still caring even though it’s a fact that nothing can change. When people die, that’s...it. That’s all you get. And I don’t know what to do with the knowledge that that’s all I get.”

Wren wasn’t sure at what point Peter had begun staring at her, but it was impossible to miss him taking her hand in his, and she laced their fingers together as they held each other’s gazes. 

“Peter?” She paused. “What if...what if you’re wrong, and they don’t want me as part of their family, either?”

Peter squeezed her hand. “You know what I’m going to say.”

“I do,” she said. “But...I want to hear you say it anyway.”

His mouth twitched into half a smile. “They’ll love you if you let them get to know you. They’re family to me, and they will be to you, too.”

It was sad and smile, but a smile she managed. “Thanks, Spider-Man.”

He laughed, and for the first time since she brought up Ben, he sounded like himself. The evidence of his crying was fading, but she knew it wouldn’t be the last time she saw him in that state.

The sun was beginning to set and Wren wrapped her arms around herself, only now beginning to notice the dropping temperature. Peter looked from the streaks of orange and yellow to her. “Aren’t you cold in that?”

She nodded. “Yeah, but it’s necessary. Besides, if we were fighting right now, I’d be grateful it was helping me stay cool. What about you? It’s been warm all day. You can’t be comfortable in that. You’re so hot.” Her eyes widened. “I mean, like, you  _ must _ be so hot. Not that I—I don’t—” She huffed and turned away from him. When she dared to glance back, his cheeks were dusted pink, but he was pleased. When he caught her looking, her eyes went back to the ground.

“A-anyway,” Wren said, raising her head and avoiding looking at him, “I guess we can—” She cut herself off, eyes narrowing. “Did you see that?”

“That’s not a subtle way to switch the topic.”

She shook her head. “No, really.” She pointed to the bank across the street. “A group just entered the bank. If the sun’s going down it’s probably around nine, that bank should’ve been closed for awhile. It should’ve been locked. How did they get in?”

“Employees? Maybe they just had some emergency come up.”

“But they didn’t have to scan an employee card to get in. It was just...open.” She tilted her head, eyes landing on the parking lot. “How long has that car been there?” She looked at him. “Probably an employee who never went home even though everyone else probably did. And now he’s letting in some random group. Don’t you think that’s weird?”

Peter nodded. “I guess we have a case after all.”

Wren leapt onto Peter, legs around his legs and arms around his neck. As his strong arm came around her, her earlier comments came to the forefront of their minds. They looked away from each other, both warming up, before Peter put on his mask, jumped, and swung over to the bank.

On the bank rooftop, Wren slide down from him. “So what’s the plan, Spider-Man?”

One corner of his mouth upturned. “I’m going to check it out.”

Wren caught his wrist before he could disappear over the edge. “Wait, what about me?”

“I didn’t expect something like this to happen. If there’s danger, I should handle it.”

“The whole point of me coming along is to get experience. I can’t do that by chilling on top of the building you’re fighting in.”

“If something’s going on, we don’t have time to argue. I’ll take care of it.” He pulled his wrist from her grip and bounced over the edge.

“Dammit, Peter,” she muttered to herself. She leaned her head over the ledge, hands becoming fists as he slipped inside. She came along for a reason. He didn’t get to leave her behind. She searched for a water source and spotted a fire hydrant. Bingo. One hand out, she built pressure within it until it burst open from the inside. From there, she brought the water to her and used it to lower herself to the ground like an elevator. 

Wren hit the ground outside the door and kept the water hidden behind her. Her chest tightened as she listened in. Peter was talking but she couldn’t make out the words. Heart palpitating painfully in her chest, she peeked around the corner through the glass front doors. Within seconds of doing so, a fight broke out. 

Wren stood still as Peter fought, almost effortlessly weaving and dodging in between firing off his webs. Right now she’d settle for observational experience, knowing he wouldn’t want her to get involved unnecessarily. Despite that resolution, she itched to bust in and test her training on real bad guys, not holograms, not Peter acting as a dummy. Even the water itself seemed to ache for a fight. 

A moment later, she didn’t have a choice anymore. A woman inside spotted her and backed off from the fight with Peter to raise a gun at her. Wren rolled to the side as the bullet shattered the glass door and whizzed through where she’d been standing. Without missing a beat, Wren entered through the empty door frame and sent her water barreling ahead to connect with the woman’s next bullet and veer it off course. The noise had caused the others to notice her as well now, including Peter. In his distraction, a fist collided with his cheek and he fell to his side. 

Wren did a somersault toward the woman as she fired again, and once she returned to her feet, she sent the water into the woman’s chest. She was knocked back, her head hitting the wall with a crack. There were still two more men to deal with.

As Wren turned to the others, a fist grazed her ear, missing her by chance. Peter was still on the ground, a gun in his face, but he managed to distract the man with webs to the face before he could fire. Peter scrambled to his feet, but Wren couldn’t focus on him, a gun now to her face. She brought the water back around, but the lack of momentum made it hit him and scatter without doing anything. He had a gun and her weapon was gone. 

The man cried out, electricity pulsing through him, and he fell on top of Wren, pinning her down. Web was stuck in a heap on his back. Peter spun, kicking his own opponent in the face and knocking him out. Peter began walking toward her as she pulled herself from under the body, and got to her feet, but she frowned. She could have sworn four people entered. She began gathering water from the air as quickly as she could.

As if on cue, a woman appeared from the back room, already raising her gun. Peter’s spider sense went off and he turned as the woman’s finger pressed on the trigger. Wren flew forward on instinct, planting herself between her and Peter. A long, thin cylinder of water shot out in front of her, building long and longer, her energy spilling out of her the more water she added. It propelled forward at the same time as the bullet, the two colliding almost immediately, the bullet slowing as it plowed through the water. She had just enough time to throw the water to the side, bullet with it. 

Wren fell to her knees, edges of her vision blurring as the last woman was electrocuted by another taser web.

“Wren—” His voice was far away, and before she could respond, so was everything else as darkness engulfed her.

***

“Go to bed, Peter. I promise she won’t die in her sleep.” 

Slumped over in a chair beside Wren’s bed, Peter raised his head. Natasha leaned against the doorway.

“But I—”

“No buts. You know it’s nothing serious, she just needs rest. She’ll be there in the morning. Go get some sleep.”

Peter opened his mouth to protest, but he knew it was pointless. With one last look at Wren, he dragged himself from her bedroom to his, not planning on sleeping much. She’d saved his life. Then again, maybe if she had listened to him, he wouldn’t have needed saving. He lay on his back, staring at the ceiling. He should get up early and do something to thank her. Regardless of the role she’d arguably played in causing the situation, she’d risked herself for him. If she hadn’t collected enough water or done so fast enough, the bullet wouldn’t have slowed enough to not tear through her. If he had been hit, at least he had supernatural strength to lesson the impact. If she had tried and failed, on the other hand, she probably would have died. How could he ever have forgiven himself for that, especially after he’d promised to keep her safe?

Peter rolled to his side, only to be reminded of the bruise on the side of his face from being punched. Her trust in him had made him indescribably happy. Would she still trust him after this? He didn’t want to think about it. 

Peter arose early the next morning after what felt like mere hours of sleep. He wasn’t used to sleeping in Avengers Tower for days on end and waking each morning to other people already bustling about. May wasn’t a late sleeper, but his school schedule still had him up earlier than her. When he wandered out, Tony was in the kitchen, seated at the island with coffee in one hand and a notepad.

“After how you were last night, I’m surprised you didn’t go straight for her room,” Tony said without looking up from his notes. 

“I was just worried was all.” He poured himself a bowl of cereal and sat beside Tony, who set down the notepad.

“I know.” He took a drink before putting down the coffee as well. “You want to tell me what happened? I thought Friendly Neighborhood Spider-Man was a safe bet but it sounds like I need to take away your training license.” Despite his words, he didn’t sound angry.

“She—I—” He lowered his head, took a deep breath, then raised it to meet Tony’s eyes. “Sh-she saw a group going into a bank and thought it was suspicious, so I swung over to check it out. I-I told her to stay on the roof. I could have taken them all on my own, but she didn’t listen to me. She wanted to watch, and then she got involved, and then—” He shook his head. “I was responsible for her safety a-and—she did the one thing I told her not to do.” Peter frowned. “Why are you smiling right now?”

Tony chuckled. “I was just thinking about old times.”

“What are you—” Peter stopped himself as deja vu hit him like a freight train. _...so you could sneak around behind my back...doing the one thing I told you not to do. _

Tony nodded. “Not so fun now that you’re on the other end, is it, kid?”

_ And if you died...I feel like that's on me. _ “No,” Peter said, mouth dry. “It’s not.”

“She’s just like you were in the beginning. Enthusiastic. Reckless. Thankfully it’s my job to weed only one of those out of you. I think there’s a lesson to be learned here for both of you.”

Peter sighed. “I know you’re right.”

“I’m always right,” Tony said. “Which means I’m also right that what happened last night isn’t the only thing you two have to talk about.”

Peter gripped his thighs. “Oh?”

“You don’t have to act like you don’t know what I’m talking about, kid. Maybe she hasn’t caught on to all the little things you do extra for her, but the rest of us have. I’ve never seen you cook for anyone else.”   
“It doesn’t matter,” he said, eyes trained on his cereal.

“And why’s that?” Tony took a drink.

“She...” He sighed. “She doesn’t...I don’t think it’s like that.”

“What makes you so sure?” He leaned against the island.

“It’s...just a vibe I get. I’m a friend to her. And that’s okay. I’d rather be a friend than nothing at all. I want her in my life regardless.”

“Hm,” Tony said. “I didn’t know Peter Tingle could detect feelings.”

Peter glared at him. “You’ve gotta stop calling it that.”

Tony stood. “And you’ve gotta own up to your feelings, kid.” He finished his drink and rinsed the mug before turning back to him. “You think you know what’s going on in her head, but is that a chance you’re willing to take? What have you got to lose?”

“Her,” he said.

Tony rubbed the bridge of his nose. “Will repeatedly risk his own life, won’t risk a friendship, got it.”

Peter shot him a look. “Mr. Stark, I —”

“Yesterday I was talking to Wren about this life and how you have to choose it, but that doesn’t just apply to this. It applies to everything. Every day you make a million choices, and the ones who  _ don’t _ make count just as much as the ones you do. So don’t think bottling yourself up is neutral territory. There is no neutral territory. I can’t make you do anything, kid, and I wouldn’t want to. But let me tell you right now. Every decision you do or don’t make regarding other people are the ones that are going to affect you the most. They’re the ones you’re going to regret the most if you choose wrong. If you’re sure you want to let this thing slide, then do that. But remember...you have to deal with those consequences.” Tony paused in the doorway, looking back one last time before he left. “I know you’ll make the right choice.” 

Now alone, Peter discarded his cereal, appetite gone. His fingers grazed the bruise on his cheek. How would she react if her feelings were platonic? He liked their relationship, and the thought of it becoming strained was nauseating. He allowed his mind to wander to the other side. Kissing her. His arm around her while they watched movies. Waking up beside her. Those thoughts drove away the sickness and made him feel light, but he could only hold onto them for so long. Soon they’d fluttered away and all he was left with was the sinking feeling that if he got off his chest what he’d been holding it, he’d never be able to repair the damage. Sometimes the fear of screwing up and ruining things felt more relevant to Peter Parker than it did to Spider-Man.

Peter pushed those thoughts aside. He wanted to do something for her and have it ready for when she woke up, which hopefully would be within a few hours. If he was going to tell her how he felt, he should do something romantic, like a picnic. She’d been complaining about feeling cooped up while her friends were too busy with their jobs and relationships to hang out. But maybe something like that was too big, too much pressure. He didn’t want to scare her off. Telling her in itself already felt too big, especially with Wren. He often felt like she was on the edge and one wrong move would send her spiralling. As strong as she was, she’d been through a lot recently, more than he’d initially known. Maybe telling her at all was the wrong move. After all the changes she was undergoing, how could he add another item to her plate? How could he hand her his feelings when she was already carrying so much?

Peter buried his face in his arms against the island to muffle his groan. The only things he wanted right now—tell Wren he likes her and avoid hurting her—were in conflict. He didn’t know what to do. Until he did.

He took out his phone, dialing the only number in his call history that wasn’t May or a telemarketer.

“Hello?”

“Ned,” Peter said, stowing away in his room.

Ned yawned. “What are you doing up so early? You know it’s Saturday, right?”

“Yeah, I know. I’m sorry, I just need some advice right now. Guy In the Chair does advice, right?”

“Is this about Wren?”

“How did you—”

“Have you not noticed how much you’ve been gushing about her recently?”

“...No, I didn’t, actually.”

Ned sighed. “You’re hopeless.”

“That’s not helpful. I need  _ advice _ ,” Peter said. “I don’t want to ruin things with her or scare her off or—”

“Okay, okay,” Ned said. “As your best friend and Guy In the Chair, it’s my duty to bestow you with my wisdom, so here we go. Have you ever considered that you’re just...overthinking it? You’re not proposing. Just tell her you like her and see how she reacts. No pressure, no expectations. Just gently set the ball in her court.”

“But what if she doesn’t feel the same way and it gets awkward?”

“You two are friends, right?”

“Yeah. I mean,  _ I _ think we are. M-maybe she doesn’t—”

“I’ll take that as a yes,” Ned said. “Close friends?”

Peter mulled over the things he and Wren had discussed in the past couple months, turning the memories over and over again in his head. He’d told her almost everything about him by now, from his embarrassing stories to his fear of college looming on the horizon. She’d told him about all her bad dates and kisses with guys and girls in their class and he’d admitted his insecurity regarding his own inexperience, ever increasing as he got older. He’d shown her his favorite spots in the city and she’d done the same, and they had several places in common. They had each other’s orders from their favorite coffee place memorized. Once, she’d smiled as he told her about May and she’d said she’d love to meet her, that she loved how close they were. Once, she’d spent the night in his room talking to him until he fell asleep after he was shaken up by a mission gone wrong. Once, before she knew he was Spider-Man, she’d stood up for him when Flash called him a loser. He should have known  right then and there that her brave and empathetic nature was going to hollow her a place in his heart whether he liked it or not.

“Yeah, I think we’re close,” Peter said, pulling himself back to the question.

“Peter, if I told you I have a crush on you, how would you react?”

“As gentle of a letdown as possible,” he said.

“I thought so. Would you still talk to me?”

“Of course! You’re my best friend.”

Ned said nothing, waiting for Peter to understand.

Peter sighed, getting his point. “You’re right. If we’re really that close, she wouldn’t abandon me because of that.”

“‘Abandon’ is an interesting choice of word there.”

There was a minute of silence.

“I can’t lose any more people,” Peter said. “I just...can’t.”

“I know. But you won’t. I promise,” Ned said.

“You’re promising something you have no control over.”

“I choose to have faith in people,” he said. “Are you okay now?”

“Yeah,” Peter said, only half confident.   
“You’ve got this,” said Ned. “Now you just have to do it.”

“Thanks, Ned. For everything.”

“I always have your back. Now, I’m going back to sleep. Good luck, Peter.” He hung up, leaving Peter alone with his thoughts. Ned was probably right: he was thinking too much. He didn’t need a grand gesture. He still wanted to do something to thank her for saving him, though. He scrolled through Pinterest on his phone, searching for carrot cake recipes. She’d mentioned that being her favorite awhile ago. When he found one that appeared suitable for beginners, he was off to pick up ingredients, confident in his abilities. How hard could a cake be?

***

Wren awoke to the smell of smoke. Images of Avengers Tower burning flashed in her head as she scrambled out of bed, finding the source the moment she stepped out of her room.

“What is  _ that _ ?” she asked, eyes on Peter as he removed a pan from the oven, smoke wafting off it.

Peter leapt out of his skin, the pan clattering to the ground, where she could see the ugly burned cake. His head whipped around to look at her, eyes wide.

“Wr-Wren, I didn't think you’d be up so soon,” he said. 

“What are you doing?” she asked.

“N-nothing,” he said. “Just, you know, practicing baking.”

“Since when are you interested in baking?”

“Since today,” he said, scrapping the cake into the trash. “It hasn’t really been a smooth start.”

“I can see that,” Wren said, smiling. Now that the panic had died down, she remembered her current state. She was still in her clothes from yesterday, her hair tangled. “I’m gonna —” She gestured away with her thumb before scurrying off. She didn’t want him to see her disheveled, least of all today. Ever since she’d apologized for lying to him, keeping her crush on him a secret had felt like a lie by omission. They were close enough that she felt he deserved to know. Even if him knowing made their friendship weird, though she desperately hoped it wouldn’t. She could stand not having him as a boyfriend; she couldn’t stand not having him as a friend. Even with the risk, though, she needed to tell him, and she wanted to do it today.

With all evidence of yesterday off her, Wren returned to the kitchen, sitting at the island and watching Peter as he cleaned up his mess.

“So nothing inspired you to try making a cake before you’ve even had lunch?” she said. She spotted the bag of carrots. “Carrot cake? You told me you didn’t like carrot cake. Pretty sure you made fun of me for it being my favorite.”

“...It was for you,” he said, putting away the last of the ingredients. He stood on the other side of the island facing her, one hand rubbing the back of his neck. “As a thank you. For yesterday. I wanted to do something for you, but I guess that’s not happening. I’m sorry.”

His thoughtfulness choked her up. “Don’t be sorry. You don’t have to do anything for me, or thank me. It’s not a big deal. I just needed some time to recharge is all.”

“It could have been a big deal, though,” he said, stern. “You barely practice collecting water like that, and you don’t do it that fast. It could have been harder than you expected and not gone fast enough. That bullet could have hit you. You could have gotten hurt. I don’t know…” He sighed, hanging his head. “I-I don’t know what I would have done if you’d gotten hurt.”

Wren hadn’t expected that reaction. She walked up to him and put one hand under his chin to tilt his head up. “But I didn’t get hurt. That’s all that matters, right?”

Peter stared at her for a few long seconds before his arms wrapped around her, pulling her against him. Her face was against his shoulder, and after the shock wore off, she returned the hug. Her eyes closed as she focused on him: his arms around her, the subtle fruity smell of his body wash, the slight rise and fall of his chest against hers. This moment swallowed all of her senses and she never wanted to let him go.

“Please don’t scare me like that again,” he said, breath warm against her.

“I’m sorry,” she said.

“Don’t be.” He pulled back, his hands lingering on her arms before he withdrew them as well. “I’m still sorry the cake didn’t turn out.” He paused. “How about we go to the bakery? My treat.”

She laughed. “Are any of them open this early?”

“Right. Probably not.”

“I bet the coffee shops are though,” she said. “We could get breakfast, and bring May some while we’re at it. You said she’s back today, right?”

“I totally forgot about May,” he said, checking the time. “She should be home in an hour or so, we’ve got time. You want to go now?”

“Let’s,” she said, already slipping out the door. Peter grabbed his backpack, his things already packed last night, and hurried after her.

The morning chill in the air was beginning to fade when they went outside. It was early, but the city was bustling as if it was the middle of the afternoon. Wren found it to be both comforting and isolating to be in a city that never sleeps. 

“Where did you live before New York?” Peter asked.

“Small town,” Wren said. “Not even two thousand people. As much as I didn’t like the circumstances of the move, I was glad to be out of there. Places like that are suffocating. It’s the kind of place where houses only got sold to the ‘right’ kind of people, which is pretty ironic given that a lot of the people who move there never leave or do anything with their lives. A lot of people got married straight out of high school and started having kids right after. Standards were different there.”   


“Must have been a real adjustment coming here.”

“Oh, it was. This place is always moving, and how I feel about that depends on the day. It kind of has the opposite problem of my hometown, where the lack of options made for a strong sense of community. Here, I feel like I can do anything...but it also feels a lot harder to do anything or meet anyone. In case you hadn’t noticed, I never really made friends here. When I arrived I really wanted people to like me and it wasn’t happening no matter how hard I tried.”

“Wanting to be liked never stopped you from being nice to the losers, though,” Peter said.

Wren brushed back her hair. “Well yeah. If they were making fun of people, they wouldn’t be worth having as friends, anyway.”

“Do you remember that time Flash called me a loser and you threatened to tell all the girls that he was small?” Peter asked, one side of his mouth upturned.

She chuckled. “Of course. That shut him right up.”

He rubbed the back of his neck. “I was really grateful. No one had ever done that for me before. I mean, Ned is obviously my best friend, but he was always getting picked on at my side. No one’s ever stepped in like that.”

Wren kicked a stone into the road. “Well...if you were so happy about it, how come you never tried talking to me?”

His face dropped. “I...I didn’t think you’d want me to. You were new, and you seemed cool. I thought you had a shot at fitting in and I didn’t want to take that away from you.”

“Don’t you think it’s a little condescending to make that choice for me?” she said.

“A little, in retrospect. B-but...it’s not like that was the only thing. I was intimidated too.”

Wren looked at him, eyebrows raised. “Intimidated? By me? Seriously?”

He nodded. “You were confident, and cute, and I didn’t have an excuse to talk to you.”

Wren’s face visibly warmed. “I-I don't know about tha—”

Peter’s arm lashed out, wrapping around her waist and spinning her into him as a bike whizzed past where she’d been standing. She landed with her hands against his chest, her eyes wide and heart pounding.

“Close one,” he said quietly, letting her go only after a few seconds had passed. 

“Anyway,” she said, head turned to hide her blush, “you never had any reason to be intimidated by me. If anything, it’d be the other way around. After all, you are...you know.”

“You didn’t know that then, though,” Peter said. “And that part of me...that doesn’t change who Peter Parker is, you know?”

She nodded. “Still, though. You’re...” She fumbled with her words. 

“Here,” he said, opening the door to a coffeehouse for her. Inside they bought chocolate croissants and cheese danishes before heading back out.

“You were saying?” Peter said, the bag of pastries in one hand. “I’m...?”

She shook her head. “Forget about it.”

“You can’t cut off like that.”

She sighed, rubbing her arm. “You’re... _ you _ .”

“It’s kind of hard for me to not be me,” he teased.

Wren rolled her eyes. “We both know that’s not true. Take Flash for instance. He likes to show off his money at every opportunity and act like it makes him better than everyone else, but you can tell it’s all just for show. He’s overcompensating. If he thought his personality was enough to get people to like him, he wouldn’t wear designer brands like they’re some amazing badge of honor. Or what about Lucy? She used to be really sweet until people started to tease her for being naive. Now she lashes out all the time and acts all tough even though I know that’s not the person she is. A lot of people aren’t who they are. I think you’d find it easier to  _ not _ be you, but I’ve never felt like you were being anything other than genuine, and I like that you’ve never got caught up in all that stuff. I like who you are.”

She wasn’t looking at him as she spoke, but when she did, his eyes were on her, wide and curious. 

“What?” she said, now self-conscious.

“I just...didn’t expect you to think that highly of me,” he said. 

It was her turn to be taken aback. “Seriously? What did you think I thought of you?”

“I-I don't know,” Peter said sharply turning the conversation. “Have you ever been to the top of the One World Trade Center?” 

“No,” she said. She’d liked the direction their conversation was heading in and frowned at the shift in topic. “Why?”

“I want to show you the best seat in the house.” He took her hand, guiding her deep into an alley. Had it been anyone else, she probably would have been apprehensive, but it was Peter, and Peter was safe.

Now far from the street, Peter dropped his backpack, retrieving his Spider-Man suit from within. Wren stood like a statue as he pulled his shirt over his head, showing off abs it would take a normal person intense, consistent training to achieve. The spider bite allowed him to be effortlessly fit, and she certainly didn’t mind that view, but with that cute face she loved, she had a feeling he would be attractive regardless

Peter glanced at her, turning red when he saw her looking. “Can you, uh—”

“R-right, sorry,” she said, turning away from him. “I wasn’t, uh—”

“I-It’s okay if you were, just, uh, um, n-nevermind,” he said. His jeans hit the ground and she squeezed her eyes shut, trying to get the image of Peter in only his boxers out of her head. The thought made the heat in her face spread throughout her body.

“Okay,” Peter said, and when she turned around, he was fastening the suit to his body. He handed her his backpack, then positioned himself in front of her for a piggyback ride. “All aboard!”

Wren laughed as she put on the backpack, the tension draining from her body, and carefully got on him. As he stood her legs and arms wrapped tightly around him.

“Ready?” he said, head craned back to look at her, his face inches away.

“Y-yeah,” she said, mentally scolding herself for getting flustered. 

Peter smiled, then began climbing. On the roof, he spotted the One World Trade Center. “Time to fly.”

Before she could react, they were flying through the air toward the tallest building in New York. Even though this wasn’t her first time swinging with Peter, Wren’s stomach was still left on the first building and she held back screams of terror. As they swung, Peter had his free hand under her thigh to keep her secure in the alternative position. He was definitely trying to make her heart explode.

When they collided with the wall of the World One Trade Center, he resumed climbing, faster now.

“Are we still going to beat May home by doing this?” Wren asked, fighting the urge to look down. 

“She’s not too far from here, we’ll be okay.”

She looked down and bile rose in her throat, her limbs tightening around him. One didn’t have to be afraid of heights to see the dangerous nature of this situation.

“You okay?” Peter asked, having noticed her shift.

“Y-Yeah,” she said.

“You’re good,” he said soothingly. “I won’t let anything happen to you. We’re almost there.”

She relaxed a bit while maintaining a secure hold. She tilted her head up. The top of the tower was closer than she’d thought and she kept her eyes on it until Peter was crawling onto the roof. Wren got off him, rushing a few yards in for comfort.

Peter pulled off his mask and tucked it in his backpack, laughing while he approached her. “Feeling better now?” She nodded. “I told you I wouldn’t let anything happen to you.” He squeezed her hand, but when he tried to pull it back, she caught it and held onto it. 

“I know,” she said. “Thank you.”

He smiled sheepishly. “You know I’d never forgive myself if anything happened to you. Especially if it happened because of me.”

Her cheeks warmed and she let go of him, wandering a few feet away. Now that her fear of falling to her doom had been eradicated, she walked within a couple feet of the edge, staring out over the city.

“Wow,” she said breathlessly. Walking through New York City, it felt big, chaotic, and dangerous: a jungle that couldn’t be tamed. Up here, where everyone was ants and only the largest buildings still appeared as such, it was almost calm. It was all the lights and life of the city without the constant feeling of being about to be swept downstream. 

“I know,” Peter said. “The view from inside is pretty nice, but...It’s different up here. Everything feels so far away, but also  _ right there _ , like you could reach out and touch it.” He sat on the ledge, his legs dangling over the side. Looking back at her, he patted the roof at his side. Wren ambled toward him like a fawn exploring the world for the first time. She sat beside him, and her face must have expressed her worry, because he wrapped an arm around her shoulders and said, “Better?” 

She nodded and scooted closer to him, her arm snaking around his torso for added security. He smiled at her and her stomach twisted in an oddly pleasant way. 

For what felt like an eternity, both of them gazed out over the city, drinking it in. 

“You know,” Wren said, “I think...I think this place is finally starting to feel like home.”

Peter tilted his head as he looked at her. “What’s changed?”

She glanced at the view, then back at him. “You.” She took a deep breath. “You know that I haven’t really made friends since I got here. I don’t know how to talk to them, and even if I did, I don’t know how to be honest with them. But you’re different than that. It’s not even really anything that you did, exactly. It’s just  _ you _ . You try so hard to be nice to me. Even before we met through the Avengers. You were the one who left that welcome card in my locker, right?”

He turned red and nodded.

She grinned. “I knew it. You did that, with advice on how to get my locker to actually lock. And you offered to be my chem partner, and I appreciated it even though I decided to work alone instead of risk you growing on me. And then life happened, and you grew on me anyway. There was a point in the beginning when I resented that. I didn’t want to care about you or feel bad about lying to you, but while everyone else, even the other Avengers, made it so easy to keep secrets and keep my distance...you made it impossible. I really, really hate the idea of doing anything that would make you think less of me, because you’re so kind and thoughtful and the more I got to know you the more I wanted to be like you. And the more I-I...” Her passionate speech began to fumble. “I...” She shook her head, took a deep breath, and laughed in spite of herself. “I should have known it was going to end up like this.”

Peter was staring at her in fascination. “End up like this?”

She laughed. “I’ve been thinking for awhile...that I should have known from the time you put that welcome basket in my room...or maybe even before that, given the other things you’ve done for me...that I’d end up...” She shook her head, gathered her courage, and looked him in the eye. “I really like you, Peter. And it’s okay if it’s not the same for you, because I value your friendship too, but I...”

“I like you too,” he said without hesitation. “A lot. For awhile now. I’ve been wanting to tell you, I thought maybe I could when I gave you the cake and stuff, but you know how that went.” He laughed at himself, then cleared his throat, involuntarily glancing at her lips. He was red as he leaned in. “Can I—can I kiss you?”

Knowing thinking about it would only make her back out, Wren didn’t think it through as she stretched to kiss him, the act lasting just long enough for her to know his lips were as soft as they looked. With glances alone she’d spent a long time looking at them. When she pulled back, Peter’s eyes were wide, but a gentle smile spread across his face. She smiled back, and then, still trying not to overthink, her arm slipped from his back and she pressed her hand against the roof to steady her as she stretched toward him again. She placed her other hand on his cheek and pressed her lips to his. Kissing Peter felt just as warm and safe as he was, but it lit up all her senses in a way nothing else did. Her thumb brushed over his cheekbone as she took him in, all adrenaline and sweetness and care. When the arm he’d had around her shoulders fell around her torso and pulled her closer, she instinctively parted her lips, their tongues gently mingling before he pulled away.

Peter was grinning like she’d never seen before, even though his cheeks were still pink. He pressed his forehead to hers as she smiled back at him. 

“I could get used to that,” he said, causing her chuckle and agree. He pressed a kiss to her forehead, then checked the time. “We should probably get going.” He stood and reached out a hand to her, which she took, and they grabbed their things before scaling back down the building. After Peter changed back into his street clothes, they headed off again, hand in hand.

Wren and Peter made it back to May’s apartment building right as May was pulling into the garage. 

“Hey Peter,” she said as she stepped out. “Just in time to help me carry my bags.” She smiled.

“Of course.” He picked up her suitcase as she noticed Wren.

May raised an eyebrow, smiling amusedly as her eyes flicked between the two. “And this is Wren, I assume?” She walked up and held out a hand, which Wren tentatively took. “Peter’s told me a lot about you.”

“May,” Peter whined. 

“He’s told me a lot about you, too,” she said, grinning at him. 

“All good things I hope.” May grabbed her other bag. 

“Oh yeah, he adores you.”

May smiled at him, then at Wren. “Would you like to come in for breakfast?”

“We brought breakfast, actually,” Wren said while Peter took the bag from his backpack. “I picked chocolate croissants and cheese danishes.”

“Good choices!” She mouthed  _ I like her, _ at Peter.

_ Me too, _ he mouthed back. 

“Anyway,” Wren said, “I appreciate the offer, but I actually have some things I need to take care of today, so I was going to get going. I hope that doesn’t come across as rude.”

“Not at all,” May said. “I’ll make sure to get you over here another time. After all, I have to get to know Peter’s girlfriend, right?”

Both Wren’s and Peter’s eyes widened. “I-I—how did you—” Wren said.

“Just a hunch,” May said. “But I think you just confirmed it.”

Both teens’ faces descended into a deep blush. 

“B-bye!” Wren said before bolting in the other direction. She settled into a jog she kept up all the way back to Avengers Tower.

When she entered, Natasha, Steve, and Bruce were setting up Monopoly on the coffee table in the living room. The frequency with which board games were played in this building still astounded her.

“Hey, Wren,” Bruce said upon her arrival. “You’re just in time for some bonding.”

“I’m pretty sure this game is supposed to do the opposite of that,” Natasha said.

“Now guys,” Steve said, “I think we’re capable of some friendly competition.”

Natasha and Bruce both gave him a look.

“Anyway,” Bruce said, “you in?”

Wren tensed. It was clear on Natasha and Steve’s faces that they were expecting her to decline and disappear into her room. Even Bruce, the most optimistic of the three, had little faith anymore. Yet, despite how many times she’d said no, they always asked. The option was always there.  _ Have you considered they’re keeping their distance because you have your guard up and they’re trying to respect your boundaries? _ Wren took a deep breath and sat at the empty side of the coffee table to the shock of all three of the Avengers.

She smiled. “Let’s do this."


End file.
